But engineering something like magic… that's still impossible for me. Hah… maybe I should just work with what I already have.
Looks like another path here are artifacts.
The world is filled with countless of them, some legendary, some barely worth noting but from what I've read, even the weakest artifacts hold unique functions. And for now, I only need what can benefit me.
What can I even do with a sword artifact if I can't wield it properly anyway?
[World Information Processing…]
Wait—what?
The author's system just… activated?
[Prompting Character X for Story Preparation…]
Character X? So that's what I am now? A placeholder in the author's grand script…But why is it saying prompting—
[Processing almost complete. Please prepare…]
I swear, if I suddenly get hit by some unexplainable force or—
Before I could finish that thought, my vision shattered into static. My entire body froze. And then blackout.
When I opened my eyes, there was nothing. Nothing but white. Endless, blinding white stretching in every direction.
Then. A sharp, searing pain tore through my skull. t felt like a thousand steel needles being driven straight into my brain, again and again, in perfect rhythm.
I screamed instinctively, helplessly as a flood of images and information surged into my mind, glitching like corrupted data.
Voices. Faces. Symbols. Worlds.
Each flashing by in fractured bursts, each one hammering deeper into my head.
My knees buckled as I clutched my temples—this wasn't just memory… it was lore.
The system, the author's system was downloading the entire world's knowledge directly into my consciousness.
But damn it—it hurt.
It felt like my skull was being rewritten, bit by bit, until even my thoughts stopped belonging to me.
I caught my breath or at least tried to.
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
Breathe… breathe… oh dear, I'm alive.
My chest rose and fell as the pain slowly dulled into a faint ringing inside my head. When I finally dared to open my eyes again, the world around me was still the same white. Infinite, consuming white.
I lifted a trembling hand, and as I swayed my fingers through the emptiness, something trailed behind them are thin, wavering strands of black smoke, or maybe… ink.
It followed my every movement like a shadow given form. No, not just shadow substance.
I stared at it, realization sinking in. This… this is the canvas," I muttered. The same space where I pulled out my items from.
If this is truly the canvas, then…
I extended my hand further, letting the ink stretch and swirl, forming faint circular motions in the air. Then the thought struck me.
"To pull an item out, I draw a gate… so to pull myself out should I do the same?"
A ridiculous idea, but at this point, ridiculous was normal. I steadied my breathing and began to trace a shape in the air, my fingers carving invisible lines that glowed faintly as the ink connected like sketching reality into being.
A circle. A ripple. A spark of light.
And then it opened.
A swirling rift tore through the white, humming softly like wind through a tunnel.
"Damn… it actually worked, huh?"
The portal shimmered with the same energy that my items carried, only this time it felt alive, responding to my presence.
"So this is… my own pocket dimension?"
The thought lingered as I stepped closer to the swirling gate. The author's system never did anything like this before. No mention of canvas traversal, no pocket realm mechanics, nothing.
Which means this wasn't part of the script.
Did I unlock it by accident? Or… did my exposure to the world's lore trigger it?
I rubbed my chin, the ink still dancing faintly around my hand. "By that logic… if learning the world's truth can awaken functions in the system…"
Then maybe, just maybe
"To progress, I need to expose myself to the story itself."
Not just exist within it ,but live through it, unravel its hidden threads.
Because the more I understand this world, the more the author's system seems to recognize me as part of it.
Gosh… I really am a genius, aren't I, dear readers? Maybe even more intelligent than Einstein himself—though, let's keep it humble, shall we?
I stepped through the portal, and before I could even blink...poof. I was back in the library.
Same scent of old pages and varnished wood. Same faint sound of quills scratching from somewhere nearby. Only difference? It looked like a storm had passed through the bookshelves.
Dozens of books lay open, their pages flipping on their own as if caught in an invisible gust of wind.
I rubbed my temple, half-dazed. "Hah… this is so dumb. Really."
So much for a grand discovery. From traversing an infinite white void and crafting my own dimensional portal…to waking up like I'd just taken a nap in the middle of a study session.
Classic.
And yet, what annoyed me the most wasn't the confusion, it was the system.
That damn author system.
Not a single warning. No introduction, no guide, no kind 'Welcome to your new world, hero!' popup. Just pure, unfiltered chaos from the start.
"Couldn't even bother to give me a tutorial stage before dragging me into this mess…" I muttered, slumping back in my chair.
Luck really had a cruel sense of humor.
An undesirable trait, that's what it was and apparently, I had it in abundance.
"What day is it…?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes as I looked toward the window.
A sharp streak of light pierced through the blinds, stabbing right into my half-awake pupils.
"A—damn, it's morning already…" I sighed. "Four days left, then."
Somehow, that whole library incident, that scene ate up an entire night. Time really works differently depending on which side of the story you're in. If you're a reader, hours fly by in a blink. But if you're the one living it? It drags, stretches, and twists in ways no clock can measure.
Still, I wasn't about to ponder temporal nonsense. I gathered the books I'd borrowed, stacked them neatly, and returned them before stepping out into the daylight.
Back at my shop, the usual air of dust and silence greeted me until a sudden thump echoed from the counter.
A letter.
No sender's name, just a wax seal pressed in red.
"Well, it won't hurt to check it…" I muttered, breaking the seal.
The letter read:
"Hey merchant! Your well item publisher is here right, call me Hinako. Or Lady Hinako, of course. Your item's doing well in the black market, and not only nobles have an eye for it, fellow traders too. Let's just say your goods are printing money now. Congrats! Your tuition fee's basically covered. That aside, you should come back here or maybe I'll drop by your shop myself after tracking you down, it's not that far anyway. Oh, and yes, I'm keeping 15% of the profit. I earned it, right? One more thing: the academy you're entering isn't all sunshine and education. Some commoners end up dead before graduation. Consider this a warning from your precious Lady Hinako."
I blinked, reading that last part again.
"...Did she just casually say dead?"
"Your brows are furrowing too much," a voice said from behind me.
My entire soul jumped out of my body.
"Lady Hinako! You scared me there!"
Standing behind the counter was the woman herself, calm as ever, emerald eyes sharp enough to pierce through me. Her silk-black hair shimmered faintly under the sunlight spilling through the window.
"I came here to deliver your precious tuition fee," she said, placing a small, ornate chest on the counter. "The income's coming in fast—and big. Demand is rising, after all."
Then she smiled, a sly, knowing curve of her lips. "Care to resupply my favorite merchant?"
"Sure," I replied, forcing a calm smile despite the chill running down my spine. "I kept the stock just in the second room behind the front."
"Good boy," she said, her tone playfully dangerous.
I opened the door to the second room, my so-called warehouse and the scent of metal, oil, and faint traces of mana drifted through the air.
The room was lined with crates, shelves, and containers stacked in perfect symmetry. Every inch of it gleamed under the soft lantern light. Tools from my world rested beside vials of alchemical liquid, and in the corner sat a massive metal vault — the one holding the diamonds.
Lady Hinako's emerald eyes scanned the place, her lips curving upward. "Oh, you're quite the neat merchant. I didn't take you for the organized type."
"Right… I care for my products, you see." I replied, feigning a casual tone even though her gaze felt like it was dissecting every inch of the room.
"Well then—shall we start?"
"Now?"
"Yes, of course. Business waits for no one."
I raised a brow. "How are you supposed to, exactly?"
"Easy," she said with a smug grin, reaching into the folds of her black silk cloak. "I have a pocket dimension of my own."
With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out what looked like a simple leather pouch except when she opened it, the air shimmered. A quiet hum vibrated in the air, and the inside of the bag rippled like a dark ocean swallowing light.
It was… emptiness. Yet not.
It seemed bottomless, bending space into itself like a controlled void.
"Convenient little thing, isn't it?" she teased.
I nodded. "That makes it easier, I suppose."
She smiled, snapping her fingers and several thin vines slithered from her sleeves, alive and responsive to her will. They twisted and wrapped gently around the crates, lifting them effortlessly before guiding each one into the dark pouch.
The sight was strangely mesmerizing, nature itself obeying her command in delicate precision.
"Efficient, really," I said.
Hinako gave a soft, pleased hum. "Naturally. It's the least I can be, given my line of work."
She looked back at me, her expression half-amused, half-curious. "You're full of secrets, merchant. I can feel it. But… I'll let them stay buried. For now."
Her tone lingered with that for now, the kind that could mean promise or threat.
As long as I could extend my life, it would be fine.
Three days had passed in the blink of an eye. I'd already sent the tuition fee to the Empire Academy, and a confirmation letter arrived this morning officially stating that my payment was complete.
Relief lasted about five seconds.
Because right below the confirmation seal was a single, cruel line written in fine print:
"Applicants are required to showcase their skill in both categories, combat and magic."
I stared at that part for a full minute, hoping it would vanish if I blinked hard enough.
"Damn princess…" I muttered under my breath.
Why didn't Anastasha mention this part? She conveniently skipped over the whole "prove your abilities" thing. Probably intentional.
"How am I supposed to show it then?"
I slumped into my chair, rubbing my temples. My head throbbed as if the universe itself was laughing at my predicament.
Combat and magic. Both. As if the world was daring me to fail spectacularly.
I had neither.
No mana path, no swordsmanship, no system interface to compensate.
I leaned back and sighed. "Really… this is giving me headaches."
If I couldn't create my own magic core, I needed something to fake it at least for the test.
And from what I learned in the library's dusty old records, there was one artifact that could help.
The Architekular.
A lost relic of an ancient age. Once a cornerstone of early magic craftsmanship, now considered obsolete thanks to modern techniques and knights who could imbue weapons by hand.
The Architekular had two parts:
The Converter (or Imbueder), which allowed the user to channel mana into objects.
The Absorption Capsule, which collected and stored raw mana from other sources.
Together, they let anyone even someone like me to permanently imbue items with magical properties.
The process was outdated, yes, but I didn't care about prestige. I just needed something that worked.
If I could get my hands on it, I could pass the academy's skill showcase without needing a single spellbook or sword swing.
"Now… where would one find a lost relic of history?" I murmured.
Only one person came to mind.
Lady Hinako.
The only merchant I trusted enough or insane enough to locate something this rare and ancient.
Thankfully, with the diamond business booming and a few questionably legal trades already settled, I had more than enough to afford it.
I was, for lack of a better term, filthy rich.
Money wasn't the problem anymore. Authority was.
So, I wrote a letter formal yet coded enough to keep prying eyes away:
"To Lady Hinako,
A request of acquisition, the item is known as 'Architekular.' It comes in two parts: a converter and an absorption capsule. I require it before the end of the week. Payment will be substantial.
Signed, The Merchant"
I sealed the envelope, wax-stamped it, and tucked it neatly into a smaller pouch.
Then, as always, I headed for the bakery, the one that doubled as the underworld's postal hub.
The baker raised his brow when I slid the letter across the counter. "For the elf servant again, huh?"
"Same as before," I replied. "Make sure it reaches her quickly."
He smirked knowingly. "You merchants are always in a rush."
"Always," I said, smiling faintly. "That's how we stay alive."
All I needed to do was wait for her reply nothing more, nothing less.
After several hours of overthinking, pacing, and checking the mailbox like a paranoid hawk, I decided to take a break.
The city's public park wasn't much, a few benches, a pond, and a tree or two that looked older than the kingdom itself but after being buried under stress and ink for days, even this felt like paradise.
I sat back, let the breeze hit my face, and closed my eyes.
"Nothing beats fresh air after such stress…" I murmured to myself.
Of course, the moment I finally relaxed
"Oh, Mr. Merchant! What are you doing here?"
That voice. That damned voice.
I froze before even turning my head.
And sure enough — crimson hair gleaming under the morning light, her noble smile almost too bright to look at.
The red-haired princess herself Anastasha.
"You…" I said, exhaling slowly, already regretting leaving my shop.
"Why? Did I incur your wrath?" she asked, feigning innocence while clearly enjoying my suffering.
"I heard you've already paid the tuition fee somehow," she continued, her tone playful.
"I am amazing in such ways you wouldn't know," I said dryly, trying to sound smug while also wishing she'd just walk away.
"Ohh, keeping secrets from me now?" she teased.
"As if I'm that close to you to start spilling secrets," I replied, matching her tone but with all the energy of a man done with life.
"Fair enough," she said, giggling behind her hand.
That giggle. That cursed royal giggle.
"So," I said, trying to redirect the conversation, "after your banquet, I have to enter the Empire Academy immediately, right?"
"Yes," she said cheerfully. "After the banquet this week, Mother will accompany you there. I'll be staying at the Empire after the event."
I blinked. "Wait. Your mother will accompany me?"
"Of course!" she said, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. "She'll be traveling for an auction, and I believe with your help, you could stop her from spending on… things of questionable value."
"Ah…" I muttered.
I wasn't sure whether to feel honored or terrified.
Since when did I become a family friend of the royal line?
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You people sure love volunteering others into your plans."
She smiled wider. "You should be grateful, Mr. Merchant. Being associated with the royal family is a privilege."
"Right…" I said under my breath. "A privilege with too many risks attached."
She tilted her head. "Did you say something?"
"Nothing, your highness," I replied, forcing a polite smile.
She beamed, satisfied. "Good. Then I'll see you after the banquet. Try not to wear something boring. I expect my merchant companion to at least look presentable."
Before I could even respond, she was already walking away, her red hair swaying like a flag of chaos in her wake.
I slumped back on the bench, sighing. "Since when did I become part of her family's entourage…"
The birds chirped. The wind blew.
And somewhere deep inside, I swore I heard fate laughing.